Intimacy- Mystrade
by WingsOfDuskAndDawn
Summary: Sequel to Meeting. In this piece, Mycroft learns about different levels of intimacy from his favorite DI, and with a little honesty, the two embark on a lovely little journey into the land of lust and love. M for a reason, but if you like both romance and smut, this is probably your thing. It's only slightly gooey. I OWN NOTHING!


Sex. Sherlock was not the only Holmes brother who had never experienced sex, regardless of what everyone, including Sherlock, assumed. Mycroft had gone to many a bar and gone home with many an inebriated man, but it was never for more than the sensation of another warm, breathing body next to his. Oftentimes the men assumed that they'd had sex with Mycroft, but they didn't. He would drive them home, lay with them for hours, but always be gone before they woke up.

Of course, he hadn't done so in two years. First, because he had lost the ability to sleep beside strangers, and then, very recently, because there was only one person whose bed he did want to share. He just had no earthly idea how to approach the idea, let alone what he would do if by some miracle he didn't destroy his chances with Gregory simply by opening his mouth and fumbling the proposition entirely.

They were out to dinner, and it wasn't the first time. Nor was it the second, or even the third. For three months now, the two of them had been going on dates every week, or at least, every week Mycroft was in the country and Lestrade wasn't working. But although they talked, laughed, and even flirted on those dates, nothing had happened. Nothing. Ever since the night in the warehouse, after Mycroft had kidnapped him and before their very first date, Greg hadn't kissed him once, or even attempted to take his hand.

Drawing his attention back to the story Gregory was telling about his day, because listening was important even if he'd been keeping an eye out and knew everything from the case he was working on to the brand of coffee he'd drunk with his hurried lunch of a ham and pickle sandwich, Mycroft nodded and hummed at all right places. After about half an hour of this, Greg normally tried to get Mycroft to talk about his own day, even though most of it was classified. Tonight, though, he just let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair.

"Look, Mycroft… If you're not into this anymore, you should really tell me." Mycroft blinked, and his confusion, a rare emotion for him, must have shown on his face, because Gregory elaborated. "You come out with me, and we share these fantastic dates at these amazing places I could never afford on a copper's salary, but it hasn't escaped my notice that you manage to avoid telling me anything about yourself, and that you don't so much as walk me to my door to kiss me goodnight. I get that you're busy, and I thought maybe it was that, but… it's been three months. Am I here for nothing?"

"No!" Mycroft protested, maybe too quickly, feeling the blush that had become all too familiar with this DI forming on his face as a result.

"Then what is it? Because honestly, I'm confused. I don't get it. You're this incredible guy and you take me all these incredible places, but it's like… talking to a statue sometimes. A beautiful, charming, pretty much perfect statue, granted, but… is this going to be purely intellectual? I know it's unfair of me to say that I want more, when you've courted me like a total gentleman, but… I'm used to a certain level of intimacy with my partners, and I've not seen any indications that you want that."

"I… had no idea you felt that way." Mycroft could hear a dull roaring in his ears, and his own words were muffled to him. He saw Gregory's slightly hopeful expression slip away, replaced by resignation. He gently plucked his napkin from his lap and set it beside his empty plate, and Mycroft realized belatedly he'd barely eaten two bites of his own meal, beautifully cooked though it was. That, however, wasn't important. What was important was the look on Greg's face, as if he'd just lost something.

"Gregory, please, don't go." Hand darting out of its own accord, because Mycroft was also terrified of losing something that had become infinitely precious to him, he wracked his brains trying to figure out a way to fix this. Surely he could come up with some way to salvage this…

Lestrade looked down at his wrist, which was currently held in a tight grip by Mycroft's hand, then looked back up at his face, raising one eyebrow and offering a small smile caught somewhere between amusement and confusion.

"What is it that you want, then? Because we've been standing still for three months. I don't know about you, but I feel like there's more here than that."

Swallowing because the next words out of his mouth were going to be horribly brazen, and that was something he'd never been in any kind of sexual context, Mycroft tried to calm his racing heart.

"I certainly felt a lot more than a hypothetical standstill when you kissed me that night in the warehouse." He could feel his ears turning pink, and cursed the fact that he'd been born with red hair, instead of his brother's dark black, curly mop, and had been given the complexion of a redhead while his brother seemed never to get embarrassed. Still, he was not blessed with Sherlock's looks, and could work only with what he'd been born with. He hoped it was enough.

For a long moment, Gregory simply stared at him, as if trying to read his mind. What he saw must have made up his mind, because he nodded once, quickly switched their hands so his was wrapped around Mycroft's, and then he led the politician out of the restaurant and to the long black car that was waiting for them right by the curb, as usual.

Opening the door, Lestrade stepped back, signaling that Mycroft should go first. Mycroft closed his eyes and prayed that the DI didn't plan to simply shut the door after he entered and walk away, but soon found out that that was not what was on Greg's mind. Instead, he climbed into the back of the car with him, and instructed the driver to take them to Mycroft's. He complied wordlessly, having gotten used to driving Gregory to the point where following orders from him was as natural as taking them from Mycroft, and soon enough, the two men were getting out at the beautiful, expansive flat where the government man lived.

"Let us in, then, My?" Mycroft fumbled the keys and nearly dropped them when Greg used the shortened version of his name, saying it like a verbal caress that sent blood flowing south. It took several second to unscramble the brain cells that simple syllable had flung around, but he eventually got the key in the lock and turned it, nearly forgetting to bring his umbrella inside under the sheer weight of nerves. He had no idea what was going to happen, but part of him was as terrified as his body was excited.

Greg shut the door, but instead of jumping him as Mycroft had half expected from the videos of similar encounters he'd seen, Greg simply took off his own coat and then helped Mycroft out of his. When he took his hand, the politician felt his heart leaping into his throat, only to sink rapidly when the cop led him to the couch and then took a seat on the other end, about a foot away, facing him.

Not sure whether he was about to be seduced or have his heart ripped out, Mycroft found himself holding his breath in anticipation. He was surprised when Greg laughed, shaking his head at whatever he was seeing in those silvery-blue eyes.

"Relax, Mycroft. There's more to intimacy than sex, you know. And although I would prefer the pace not be quite as glacial as it has been these past three months, after that one soul-searing kiss, I will take this as slow as you need to be comfortable with it. I'm not going to rush you. Okay? So relax."

With that admonishment, Gregory looked around, then stood up and walked over to the liquor cabinet, removing two wine glasses and a bottle of red that some foreign dignitary had given Mycroft as a gift a long time ago. A quick removal of the cork later, and he was bringing the open bottle and the glasses over and putting them on the coffee table before resuming his former seat.

"So would you like to talk about your day?" Greg could see how nervous Mycroft was now that he wasn't working so hard to hide it beneath that smooth, flawless veneer of casual disinterest he'd cultivated, and he now realized what had been stopping the natural progression of their relationship. Beneath the façade, Mycroft was either afraid of intimacy or didn't understand it at all. That, Greg decided, was fine. He could work with fear and confusion, because he knew that beneath it, there was passion. The younger man wanted him, which was certainly a boost for his ego. The only problem, the only flaw, was the fact that Mycroft was terrified of making a mistake, and thus wouldn't initiate anything for fear of screwing up.

That just meant that he'd have to take charge. And though he knew his politician was used to being top dog in every situation, he had a feeling that in the bedroom, he would always be the one to take the lead. And he was okay with that. He hadn't begun falling for Mycroft because of his power; he'd been attracted to the shy, hopeful man behind the mask, the one whose heart raced after a single kiss and whose innocence was its own kind of stimulant to the cop.

"Most of it is classified. However, I did receive a very interesting picture from Josephina today." Mycroft fought past the butterflies in his stomach to answer the simple question, trying to think of something, anything, that might make Lestrade smile, or maybe even laugh. He was completely out of his depth, but he wanted to please the DI, make him want to be here, with him, even though he knew he was terrible at this.

"Yeah? Anything I can know about?" Offering him a charming smile, Greg leaned against the couch a little, his arm stretched out over the back so it strayed, just a bit, into neutral territory. Unlike the yawn-and-cuddle trick, this wasn't a come-on so much as a way to get Mycroft to warm up, by degrees, to the idea of physical intimacy. He didn't notice the gesture, or if he did, he didn't show alarm. He was actually too busy chuckling at the memory.

"Yes. You know that former U.S. president who had that torrid affair that absolutely everyone knew about? Well, someone decided to Photoshop him having a sexual encounter with a mummy, and attempt to use it as blackmail. He was drunk, and prematurely sent out his blackmail 'evidence' to the Queen. Of course it was intercepted, but Josephina decided that it was sufficiently amusing to share with me before it was discarded."

Gregory stared at him for a moment, then roared with laughter, startling him for a moment before a pleased, shy smile formed on his face. Abruptly, Greg leaned forward and brushed their lips together before pulling back smoothly and turning to the coffee table.

"Wine?" He asked casually, as if they hadn't just kissed. Startled, Mycroft could do little more than nod, deciding that alcohol might offer him a little more courage. Greg poured them each a glass and then settled back in his former pose, though he was now a few inches closer.

"Are you… seducing me?" Brow furrowed in confusion, Mycroft glanced down at the couch, then back up at the DI, then back down at the couch. He'd just started to feel like his face wasn't on fire, but if Greg kept looking at him, he had a feeling the burning sensation would return. The butterflies certainly hadn't left, but they seemed to be getting stronger, as if attempting to create a tornado in his stomach.

"Attempting to. By degrees, of course. I don't want to scare you off. I figure a glass of wine and a little nice conversation might make things easier for you, and anyway, this is just as much a part of intimacy as sex is, Mycroft. I don't know what you've watched or read on the matter, but there's a lot more to it than jumping into bed, doing it, and going to work at three the next morning to avoid awkward pillow talk with morning breath." Because that was uncomfortably close to the way Mycroft had perceived things, he didn't choose to rebut the DI's statements, but simply waited for him to continue.

"Anyway, just because we're here doesn't mean we have to have sex at all, you know. I would be happy with a kiss goodnight, at this point. Like I was saying earlier, I'm not upset that there's been no sex, but I did feel a little like I was dating the Iceman everyone thinks you are. And having met the person you are when you drop your guard, that was disappointing to me."

Biting his lip, Mycroft contemplated apologizing for his behavior. Before he could, Lestrade cupped his chin and tilted his head up to lock gazes with him, his eyes thoughtful and tinged with gentle humor.

"Hey, don't retreat on me. I'm not judging you, and I'm starting to get that you aren't used to this. That's fine, My. I'm not asking you to turn into Don Juan or Casanova in the course of one night. All I'm asking is a chance to maybe shake up your perceptions of the way this works. Intimacy is just as much a mental and emotional connection as a physical one. Arguably, those aspects can be even more important, to some couples. I'd say those are pretty well developed for us, with the exception of the walls you keep putting up. I would like it if you didn't do that, but I get that it might take some time for you to get comfortable. I can wait, as long as you let me know that you're trying. Okay?"

"I… Yes. Gregory, this is… difficult, for me. I don't… I'm at a total loss as to how this really works, and to be honest, I am not used to being at a disadvantage. I do not know how to deal with these… feelings. Sentiment is not something I am used to. And I am not used to asking for help. I am a genius with an eidetic memory, I can play twelve instruments and speak countless languages including some that are no longer spoken, and I can stop and start wars with a few comments whispered in the right ears, but I am completely out of my depth here."

Chuckling a little, Greg reached out and took Mycroft's free hand, bringing his fingers to his lips. The simple romantic gesture stole the government man's breath.

"Well, sentiment, as you call it, isn't usually my division either, but I've already made an exception for you. I'm willing to help you with this, My. You needn't worry. I think it's kind of cute that you have no clue what you're doing, no offense. It's nice to know there's something I can bring to the table, and to be honest, you're the cutest thing I've ever seen when you blush like that, and smile like that. Hell, I think you're adorable whenever your heart's beating." Smiling shyly at his own comments, Greg kissed the other man's hand once again before setting it down and resting it on his thigh. It felt like fire against his leg through the fabric of his pants.

Realizing that Gregory had deliberately given Mycroft a chance to experiment without any pressure, he felt his mind blank when he tried to figure out what do to with his hand. Finally, he settled on something he'd seen on television once, out of the corner of his eye as a young man in college. He stroked his thumb back and forth over the fabric, keeping a slow, gentle rhythm. Greg smiled and nodded, seeming pleased.

"That's it, yeah. See, you've got this."

"Yes, but I don't know where to go from there, let alone how to get there." Scowling, Mycroft nearly pulled his hand back… but seeing the way Lestrade's eyes seemed glued to his hand, he stayed as he was. It hadn't escaped his notice that his fingertips, at their closest point, were only inches away from one of the most sensitive parts of the DI's anatomy.

"That's okay. We'll work on it. I just don't want to go anywhere you aren't comfortable with, so we'll start slow."  
"I… fine. But can you explain something to me?"

"Sure, anything. Ask away. I'm an open book, and my secrets don't have the potential to stop the world turning." Judging from the way those sparkling, teasing eyes caught his, just before one of them winked deliberately, Mycroft knew that Greg was playing with him. It was entirely new, but it was… pleasant. It filled him with an entirely different kind of warmth. Was this what he'd meant by different kinds of intimacy?

"Very well. Why did you not pursue… this… after that night in the warehouse?" Greg bit his lip, and Mycroft realized he was blushing, now. It was an interesting reaction, interesting enough that his curiosity went through the roof.

"I… Well, you responded at the warehouse like you were interested, but after that, you got in the back of the car, straightened your suit, and promptly acted like I was a colleague instead of the man who'd just been kissing you. You gave no indications at all that you were ruffled by the kiss, or that you thought about it at all, and I guess… well, ever since my divorce, my self-confidence in these sorts of things hasn't been that great. It simply didn't occur to me that you might be shy. I thought… well, I thought that I'd bungled it, somehow, and that you were debating whether it was even worth it to keep me around."

Mycroft was so startled he laughed.

"My dear Gregory, that has not been the case at all. I merely didn't know how to express that I wanted a repeat of the kiss. I've never been in a situation like this before. As a boy, I was… I did not fit in with my peers. Even then, I was groomed to be a certain way, and act a certain way, and I did not learn how to be in a situation like this. While others were learning how to flirt, I was reading biographies of past leaders, seeing how I might adapt some of their finer points into my own mannerisms."

But Sherlock tells me that until a couple of years ago, you were the king of one night stands. Was that exaggeration, or does your little brother hate the idea of… well, us?" A little pleased at the realization that the DI had cared enough to go to his brother for insight, he decided to explain.

"I… it was simpler, if Sherlock assumed that I was sleeping with those men. In reality, I simply needed… comfort, I suppose you would call it. I needed to feel like I wasn't alone in order to sleep at night. It never went anywhere, and I never did anything, and I always picked men who were too drunk to realize they were being picked up, or remember my face in the morning. It protected me from getting hurt, and from Sherlock deciding that I needed a goldfish." Wrinkling his nose a little at the term that had come up during one of his conversations with his little brother, he hoped the explanation wouldn't put Greg off.

"So did it help? Having a heartbeat next to yours, that is? Were you able to sleep better that way?" Finishing his wine, Lestrade set the glass aside so he could focus fully on Mycroft, who thought carefully before answering his question.

"In some ways, yes. But eventually, it started to bother me, because of the anonymity of it. The fact that they would never remember I existed in the morning was… more off-putting than taking sleep-aids, though I get little enough sleep even with those. I quit even before we began this… thing… and not just because I became aware of you, and attracted to you. I realized that there were different kinds of loneliness, and that while I was abating one, I was exacerbating another."

"Whoa. Such big words." The Detective Inspector teased him, but then grew somber. "Yes, I get that. After my divorce, I had a few one night stands of my own, of the real variety. Much for the same reason, I ended up preferring my own bed, empty though it was. There was nothing satisfying about sexual encounters after the divorce… at least, not until that night in the warehouse. There was just something about you, My. And I wanted so much more than a one night stand. I just had no clue what you wanted from me."

"I want… I want what you want. I'm just… As I've said, I have no idea how to get there."

"Well, then, I'll just have to teach you, won't I?" With an affectionate smile, Greg grabbed Mycroft's glass and conferred it to the table before kissing him once again, and lingering, this time. The kiss lasted for a few minutes, Lestrade leading the dance and slowly teaching Mycroft until he finally began to kiss back, cautiously letting their tongues tangle together.

When Greg pulled back, it was with a little self-conscious laugh, and he ran his hand through his hair almost as if he didn't know what to do with it.

"As lovely as this is, Mycroft, I think we should call it a night. You're not ready for any greater level of intimacy at the moment, and I'm… Well. My body thinks you're much readier than you are." Gesturing down at the extremely obvious bulge in his pants, he shrugged, wishing he could ask to stay. Instead, he rose to his feet, only to be surprised when Mycroft shot to his feet instantly, barring his path to the door. Raising an eyebrow, Greg waited.

"Don't go. You can… Would you like to stay? I think you're right about me not being ready, but… I would very much like it if you would stay."

Smiling gently, Greg kissed Mycroft's cheek, obviously startling the politician.

"I would be honored to be the one to comfort you tonight, Mycroft. Maybe you'll be able to sleep with me here?"

Biting his lip, Mycroft nodded, shyly looking at the ground as he tangled his fingers with Greg's, not trusting himself to look up as he led him to the bedroom. He was too afraid of getting lost in those brown eyes and never finding his way back out.

"I… Would you stay in the bed with me? I understand if you don't want to, but…"

"Hey, My? If you want this, I want this. I like cuddling, even if it's not something guys are supposed to like or whatever, and I'm a lot more secure than some young buck would be. That sounds fine. Do you have a spare pair of pajama pants I could borrow?"

For the next several weeks, things progressed slowly, though not as slowly as before. When they would go on dates, Greg would pack an overnight bag, and leave it in the car while they were out. He continued to gently tutor Mycroft about the shades of intimacy, working their way up from kissing lips to other highly kissable places, and they were working on touches when, one night, Mycroft was the first one to kiss Greg.

Actually, he pinned him against the door the second it was closed and pressed their lips together, turning the kiss from an urgent meeting of lips and tongues to a slow seduction, finessing a moan out of the DI. Mycroft might have known next to nothing about kissing when they'd begun, but he was, as ever, a quick study. It was child's play for him to do these things now, but this was the first time that he'd initiated.

"Hey there," Gregory laughed roughly, the last part ending on a moan as Mycroft kissed his neck, then bit down gently before swirling his tongue over his pulse. After he let out that sound, Mycroft took a step back, smiling lopsidedly in bright-eyed satisfaction that melted Greg's heart.

"Well, now, Holmes. Grass doesn't grow under your feet, does it?" Pleased that his hopefully-eventually-lover was finally brave enough to take charge, Greg wondered if that might mean that it was the night to take things to the next level. He wasn't sold until Mycroft licked his lips, wrapping a hand around the nape of his neck and pulling him in for another kiss before responding.

"Not much point when we both know what we want. You've taught me about foreplay for long enough that I had better know what I am doing. You've been incredibly patient with me, in fact, in many ways."

"You're worth it." The words were honest, but made the government man blush a little anyway, this time from pleasure rather than embarrassment. He was still adjusting to how unfailingly sweet Greg was, as well as his patience. The DI was constantly telling him how close to perfect he was, but Mycroft knew that the real saint in their relationship was the man who pushed for nothing but slowly, gently helped Mycroft to learn intimacy, never asking anything in return. Tonight, he'd decided, was the night when he would hopefully give back some of what he'd been given. The kisses against the door were only a part of his plan.

"I do like to think you keep me around for more than fancy dinners." Comfortable enough to joke about that now, when before it had been just another thing he'd been shy about, Mycroft led him up to the bedroom, where he surprised his boyfriend—a term they'd decided on, despite its juvenile nature, because it was the most accurate term—with rose petal-strewn sheets and softly glowing candlelight.

"I took the liberty of having Zarina arrange this for us. I did not think that you would mind."

Surprised and more than a little turned on by Mycroft's efforts, Greg tugged him in for another lingering kiss that had his toes curling in anticipation. When they broke apart, he rested his forehead against the younger man's, smiling at him.

"That woman's like a ninja or something, but I'm not going to complain when it has perks like this. It's beautiful, My. Thanks for thinking of me."

"Pleased to have pleased you, Gregory." He said softly, before walking over to the nightstand and pressing a button on a remote Greg hadn't noticed until that point. The music that filtered through the air was soft and pretty, and to the policeman sounded like a duet between a piano and a violin.

"This is a playlist containing pieces Sherlock and I once played together. I thought you would like the contrast between the two instruments, and there are some pieces that simply cannot be given justice with only one instrument, versatile as the piano is."

"I didn't know you played." Greg was a little in awe of how much work his boyfriend seemed to have put into the night, and judging by the happy smile on Mycroft's face, his reaction was suitably revealing.

"I think you will find, my dear Gregory, that I am full of surprises tonight."

Greg's eyes went wide at that, and a slow smile formed on his face, part mischievous, part excited. Mycroft forgot what he was meant to be doing for a moment, stunned by the sheer power of having made Gregory _that_ happy. He had to mentally shake himself. That accomplished, he swirled the DI into his arms to dance.

"What kinds of surprises?" Intrigued, because seeing Mycroft this relaxed with him was already proving to be a turn-on, Greg followed _his_ lead for once, and they spun gracefully around the room. It was just as easy for him to give control as to take it, but Mycroft had always been too shy to explore on his own, so this felt like a gift. He guessed that that was exactly what it was meant to be, though he hadn't quite gotten to the end of that train of thought yet.

For several minutes, the two men just danced, getting a little lost in the moment, and in one another. Mycroft was beginning to understand, now, what Greg had been talking about. And Greg? He was in awe of how much Mycroft had learned in such a short time, and how willing he obviously was to reciprocate. This generous side of his boyfriend was something he had a feeling no one else got to see, and he felt special in a way that no one, not even his ex-wife, had ever made him feel before.

"The kinds of surprises you'll like, I should think." Greg barely remembered the question he'd asked, because it took so long to get an answer, but he'd gotten used to that sort of thing during the weeks with his politician. He could be cryptic, moody, and terribly stubborn at times, but he made it a point to never make Gregory feel like a subordinate. It was something the cop appreciated, and he'd said so on more than one occasion, collecting shy smiles with the same glee with which some men collected notches on their bedposts. It helped that Mycroft never lied to him, as he might have anyone else, or even misdirected him without his knowledge. If it was something he couldn't talk about, he simply didn't.

"I'm liking this so far, certainly. Roses, candlelight, romantic music… Hell, My, you treat me better than a queen."

Laughing a little, the government man stole a kiss.

"Don't let her hear you say that, or I'll never get time off to spend with you again." That comment, of course, referred to the day the week before when a long black car had picked Greg up and driven him to the airport, where a plane had whisked him away to Paris for one long, beautiful day, Mycroft's reward for a job well done, though the cop wasn't entirely sure what exactly that job had been. Not that it had mattered, when by some miracle Mycroft had been able to spend the entire day with him, with only a handful of small interruptions.

"That would truly be a shame." To prove his point the DI kissed him, then went back for a little more, until hands started slowly removing suit jackets and ties, both men taking their time, enjoying the night because they were both being seduced, both by the scene and by each other.

When Greg began to unbutton his dress shirt, Mycroft didn't pull back, as he had, albeit unconsciously, the first few times. Instead, his own hands got to work divesting the Detective Inspector of his button down at the same time, matching him move for move. It felt good to finally be able to contribute something besides uncertainty and timid lust to the relationship. His fears were all but erased now, replaced by butterflies dancing anticipatorily in his stomach. Intimacy, as he'd learned, was as much about the thoughts and feelings he was experiencing for the first time as it was about the physical lust he felt in spades for this silver fox who'd become his friend as well as his boyfriend and relationship guru.

Shirts unbuttoned, the two men simply locked gazes for a long moment, and this time, Mycroft didn't misunderstand the question in Greg's eyes. _Did he want to take this further?_ On past nights, this had been his limit, when the two would stop, cuddle, and fall asleep tangled up together, mostly clothed. Tonight, however, he'd made up his mind to do things differently. Calling on every last bit of his newfound self-confidence, Mycroft arched his back and let his shirt fall to the floor, leaving his torso bared to the DI's suddenly hungry gaze. Mouth dry, he could only watch as Mycroft meticulously undid his trousers and let them slide down those mile long legs, stepping out of them. He left them there, to Greg's amazement; he'd expected the meticulously neat man to pick them up and fold them, but his attention was focused wholly on his cop. Instead of finding the single-minded focus unnerving, he found it arousing.

"Care to join me?" A slow smile slowly blossomed on the government man's face as he slide onto the petal-strewn silk sheets in a smooth, graceful movement, watching expectantly as Greg scrambled to follow his lead, fingers clumsy from the combination of shock and the almost-overpowering need that was taking over him. _Was tonight the night?_ He hoped so, because he wasn't totally sure he could walk away when they were veering so close to the act that had starred in all of his fantasies of the past few months.

The man responsible for those fantasies smiled almost smugly from the bed, and it was more of a temptation than he could resist. He eagerly made for the other side of the bed, nearly tripping over the trousers that had pooled and tangled around his ankles. He berated himself for his gracelessness, but to his credit, Mycroft didn't snicker as anyone else might have. He knew what it was like to be overwhelmed and embarrass himself in a sexual situation—he'd certainly exhibited that fact enough with Lestrade—so he merely waited for the other man to get on the bed. Once he did, he nudged him backward, plying him with lingering kisses that relaxed the DI faster than any verbal reassurance ever could have done.

"Are you sure about this?" Greg asked as soon as they broke apart, needing to be sure. Mycroft responded by taking his hand and bringing it to his silk-covered crotch, where the evidence of his arousal was unmistakable. Lestrade, however, was not assured by that alone.

"I know your body's ready—it was from day one judging by how it felt—but what about your mind? I need you to be completely sure." Adamant, Greg waited patiently, despite his own raging hard-on. Mycroft smiled, touched that he cared so much about his partner's pleasure.

"You needn't worry, Gregory. I made my mind up when I arranged this little scene. I want this for you, yes, but it's not entirely selfless, either. Consider it a gift for both of us."

Unable to put into words what he was feeling just then, Greg kissed him passionately, ending up on top of him by some maneuver of Mycroft's he didn't really notice until he found himself unconsciously rutting against those silky boxers, his body desperately seeking friction. Instead of apologizing, as he had done on similar occasions, he waited to see what the politician beneath him would do.

Long, delicate hands found his hips, grasping for a moment before beginning to slide Lestrade's cotton boxers down despite the interruption of his own hips rocking upward. Once they were out of his way, he wrapped a hand around his DI's shaft, employing the smooth, firm, long strokes he himself preferred. The tactics must have been enjoyable for Greg too, because he groaned, burying his face in Mycroft's neck as that hand stroked him a the perfect tempo. He felt the fire in his gut after only a short time, and hastily removed Mycroft's hand to a sweet sound of protest. He found himself laughing shakily and shook his head.

"After going to all this trouble, I doubt you want it to end quite this soon. Give me a minute here, love."

Gregory didn't notice the carelessly spoken endearment, but Mycroft did. Instead of being alarmed, he was relieved; if the Detective Inspector was that comfortable with him, perhaps he wouldn't get bored after a time and leave, a fate the government man had secretly feared. Losing Gregory was the worst thing he could imagine, now that he knew what it was like to be with him, to hear him laugh and know he was the cause. Greg's trust, and his easy affection, were gifts of immeasurable value, and he cherished them.

"Just hurry… please." He was a man used to demanding what he wanted, but here, it was okay to ask. It was not a weakness, but a strength, to be vulnerable with the only man who had ever seen that side of him and not scorned him or berated him for it.

"Is it okay if these come off, then?" Hands tugged at the silk and elastic waistband cautiously, and Mycroft lifted his hips, assisting him. Soon, both were completely naked, and Greg was looking down at him with one of those expressive smiles of his, managing all at once to be affectionate and lustful. The combination, Mycroft though as his heart skipped a beat, packed one hell of a punch.

"I love your smile," he admitted, hoping the words wouldn't freak the older man out. To his relief, Greg dipped his head for another kiss, that smile never fading.

"That's good, seeing as I'd hate for you to dislike a reaction that you're constantly inspiring from me." Both men were blushing, but it wasn't long before their words had been temporarily forgotten, replaced by sheer passion. It wasn't long before they were both breathing hard.

"Are you ready?" Greg asked, and Mycroft responded by fumbling for the lube and condom he'd placed on the nightstand, hidden discreetly behind some candles. Once he'd managed to get a hold of the supplies without burning himself, he handed them to the cop, eyes completely clear, full of trust. He was ready. His unspoken "yes" hung on the rose-scented air.

Slicking three fingers, he slowly started one inside Mycroft, stopping after the second knuckle when Mycroft hissed out a breath. After a moment to adjust, he nodded, and Greg slowly began moving his finger in and out, loosening him up slowly. He knew that the government man was going to be uncomfortable at first no matter how careful he was, but he definitely did not want to cause him unnecessary pain.

"Okay, My?"

"Yes." The word was confident, but there was a shadow of pain still in his eyes, so Gregory leaned down to nip at his neck as he slid the second finger in, distracting him. From the gasp he earned, he figured it had worked. He moved his fingers slowly before scissoring them a few times, adding a third finger when he felt Mycroft relaxing. After several shallow thrusts of his hand, he began to pick up speed and depth, making Mycroft let out a yelp and arch off the bed at one point. Greg grinned a little wickedly.

"That's just your prostate, love. Nothing to worry about. I'll be hitting that spot quite a bit while I make you come for me." Letting out a sound somewhere between a moan and a sigh, Mycroft leaned up to press their lips together as Lestrade's fingers slowly left his body, and he lifted his hips so Greg could slide a pillow beneath them.

Both men took a deep breath as the DI positioned himself at the government man's entrance, barely nudging inside with the tip. The stared at one another for a moment, and then Mycroft smiled at him, reaching up to caress the side of his face.

"Take me, Gregory. I'm ready for you."

They started slowly, hips rocking gently in an easy rhythm that matched the slow piano solo in the background. But as the music started to build, the violin chiming in with a series of quick scales, rising and falling like the tide, guided along by the smooth, confident notes of the piano that served as a counterpoint, the pace began to build, and soon, as the music was rising to a crescendo, they both felt themselves close to the edge. Gazing into one another's eyes, the two smiled, and then their lips came together, the music hit crescendo, and their bodies experienced the explosion of orgasm all in one life-changing second.

In the aftermath, they lay cuddled up together, hearts just beginning to slow down as they inhaled the musky scents of sweat and desire. Neither of them had quite enough energy to get up and move, but thankfully, Mycroft's assistant had thought to leave a towel by the bed, and Greg had mopped up the mess on their torsos with it before chucking it somewhere on the floor. Mycroft wasn't worried about it. He was just pleased to be at peace for what he knew was the first time in his life.

"So now we've explored every part of intimacy. I think I like it." Mycroft's offhand comment made Greg chuckle, and his brow furrowed as he tried to figure out why.

"There are lots of levels of intimacy, love, and we've only scratched the surface. If you keep me around, I'll show you everything I know, and maybe we'll learn new things together." The tone of his voice was teasing, but Mycroft was every bit as good at perceiving what others considered hidden as his little brother, and he heard the little bit of worry beneath it.

Rolling up to lean on his elbow, he appraised Gregory with a small frown.

"Surely you don't think that I plan to call an end to this now?"

"I… Well, let's face it, My: you're The Government, and even if you weren't, you're young, and gorgeous, and you've got those eyes, and those legs, and that aura of mystery… all you lacked was the confidence to pursue the things you want. I'd like to think that you'll choose to stay with me, but… well, you don't have to. I don't believe in caging people in with guilt."

If Mycroft had had any shields left at that point, they all melted away under an avalanche of emotion, and Mycroft realized that he, the man who'd always maintained that caring was not an advantage, had fallen head over heels in love with Gregory Lestrade.

Trying to let his emotions show in his eyes, which normally hid his every secret, he shook his head at the cop, hoping it wasn't too soon for his confession.

"The idea of me leaving when I have fallen in love with you is preposterous. I feared, for a while, that after we had sex you would be done with me, but you've taught me that there can be trust between two people whose hearts are willing, and that a bond that defies all logic can come from that and become more important than anything else.

"You, Gregory, could break my heart, but I find myself not caring when I look at you, because I know that you are worth all the pain I might suffer. The way I feel right now, with you… nothing could ever convince me to walk away from you. And I do not feel this way because you are my first, or anything so cliché as that. It is simply because I feel right only when I am by your side, and never want to be without you. You needn't worry that I might walk away, because I have no intentions of ever leaving the man I love."

Greg felt his eyes widen and his jaw drop, and after a few seconds of mute shock Mycroft frowned again, tilting his head to the side as he tried to guess what the DI was thinking. Realizing that he was worrying Mycroft, he tanged his fingers in that ginger hair and gave him a searing kiss, trying to express his feelings in the gesture. He would never be as eloquent as the politician he would happily claim as his own for the rest of his life, but this, this he could offer him. Passion, love, lust, tenderness, adoration, everything he felt, he conveyed through the kiss, through the gentle touches he used to worship his lover's body.

"I love you, My. I've been falling for you from the first day, and part of me was terrified you wouldn't ever feel the same way. I'm so glad…" Laughing with sheer joy, Greg peppered kisses all over his face, making his politician chuckle.

"I'm not going anywhere, Greg. We have all night, and every night for the rest of our lives to explore every level of intimacy we can possibly come up with. Starting now." Rolling so he was on top, Mycroft brushed the tip of his nose against Greg's in a surprisingly sweet move before kissing his way down his body. He had to resist the urge to growl in satisfaction when Greg let out a yelp. He could really, really get used to this intimacy thing. As long as the only person he experienced it with was his Gregory.


End file.
